


Never Again

by hiba



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, House Party, M/M, Multi, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiba/pseuds/hiba
Summary: Bebe gets drunk to the point of getting sick at a New Year's party and now it’s up to Clyde and (mostly) Craig to help her out.





	Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven’t viewed anything South Park related since last year. But I was going through my documents and found this fic I started working on shortly after I posted Earrings (they’re not connected). I thought I might as well try finishing it. Though, like I said, I haven’t watched South Park in a long time. So I hope this doesn’t seem too OOC. But I tried, ya’ll.
> 
> Someone throws up in this story. It’s NOT graphic at all but I felt like I should give a warning. 
> 
> So yeah, enjoy a story about three drunk teenagers. How original!

“I don’t feel so good,” Craig barely heard Bebe mumble from her crouched position on the floor over the noise of loud music and voices. He took a sip from the amber bottle he was holding and glanced briefly at her. He grimaced at the taste of lukewarm beer and then looked up towards the direction of the main floor bathroom in Clyde’s house. Craig’s vision was slightly clouded but he could see the five person line outside it’s door. The air around him was uncomfortably hot and he wondered how close to midnight it was.

Clyde was to his right, leaned up against the same wall, and was yammering on about some conspiracy video he watched on Youtube the other day. Craig had only been half listening, but Clyde’s absurd claim that dinosaurs were trained to help build the pyramids particularly stuck in his mind. He grabbed Clyde’s wrist and looked at the time on his watch. It was quarter to twelve and the line outside the bathroom made much more sense.

“She’s gonna be sick,” Craig casually said and used his thumb to point back to Bebe after releasing his friend’s arm. Clyde paused for a moment, confusion written on his flushed face, and craned his neck to gawk at the girl in question. As if on cue, Bebe let out a loud groan and further curled into herself. Clyde blinked, his eyelids out of sync. “Yeah,” he agreed and rested his head on Craig’s shoulder.

Craig wanted to shove him off but decided against it. Clyde’s uncontrollable crying, that seemed to worsen under the bewitching power of cheap alcohol, was something that he didn’t want to deal with at the moment.

“She’s gonna puke all over the carpet if she doesn’t get to a bathroom soon,” Craig warned Clyde in a more straightforward fashion.

“Oh shit, my Dad would be _pissed_ ,” Clyde remarked, seemingly sobering up a little bit. “What are we gonna do?”

“ _We?’"_ Craig noted his inclusion in Clyde’s question. “ _You_ can bring her to the bathroom.”

Clyde frowned at Craig’s answer. “Why do you gotta be so cold all the time? Bebe’s your friend too.”

“Your party, your responsibility,” Craig replied while taking another sip of his beer. He successfully contorted his face into a neutral expression to hide his dislike of the aftertaste.

“Come on, dude,” Clyde slurred with what Craig thought was suppose to be a hint of disappointment. “Help me out,” he added while stumbling in Bebe’s general direction. Craig almost felt bad at seeing Clyde trip over himself. _Almost._ He sighed and placed his empty bottle on the ground before making his way towards Bebe with a little more balance in his own steps.

“How much didya drink, Bebe?” Clyde asked while attempting to crouch down next to the girl, he failed and landed hard on his knees. Craig was secretly curious as well, he never saw her get so sick before. Bebe kept her lips sealed in a straight line and Craig knew they wouldn’t be getting an answer out of her any time soon.

Despite his foggy brain, Craig assessed his options. The line to the nearest bathroom grew from five to nine people. He then looked in the direction of the front door but decided against it. With her red tank top and short black skirt, Bebe was too underdressed for the cold weather. Craig also had the sneaking suspicion that Clyde, in his current state, would find some way to slip head first off his own porch and into the snow. He looked up towards the steps of the Donovan household that lead to the second floor.

“Put her arm around your shoulder,” Craig instructed Clyde while lifting Bebe’s right arm. Clyde looked on in confusion. “We’re bringing her upstairs,” Craig clarified for his very drunk friend.

“Oh!” Clyde responded with sudden realization and reached for Bebe’s left arm. She didn't object to the movement and slightly relaxed her tense upper body.

The boys stood at relatively the same time, Clyde lagging behind sightly, as they hoisted Bebe up. Craig could feel his arm cross against Clyde’s on Bebe’s lower back as they each grabbed a hold of her waist. It’s was an awkward position due the eight inch height difference that spanned across the three of them. Craig had to bend to the side awkwardly to get Bebe’s arm to hook properly around his neck.

“Onward!” Clyde yelled loudly in a dramatic fashion before suddenly jerking forward, causing Craig to swear in startled surprise.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Bebe managed to mutter out in pain.

“Onward,” Clyde sheepishly whispered this time as Craig glared at him. The three of them attempted to take slow, synchronized steps and made their way through the sea of partygoers crowded in Clyde’s living room. The place was a mess with beer bottles and cans littering every surface, chips crushed into the carpet and party decorations hanging half torn off the walls. Craig frowned, he knew that Clyde was going to beg him to help with cleaning up in the morning.

* * *

The stairs proved to be a challenge. The threat of the three of them falling down in one big drunken heap was very real. Craig kept an iron grip on the wooden handrail and practically dragged up his two companions. It seemed as though the higher they ascended, the more drunk Clyde became from his previous drinking. At one point Craig had to release his hand from Bebe’s waist to plant a firm grip on Clyde’s back to guide him up when he started leaning dangerously behind.

“I think climbing Everest would be easier,” Bebe mumbled while her head bobbed up and down with each slow step. Clyde snorted and Craig bit his lip in frustration.

When they finally reached the top, Craig glanced back at the steep set of stairs they had just barely stumbled up. He felt hot and dizzy and made sure to ease the three of them away from the edge of the top step. He was struck with a sudden pang of pain on the left side of his forehead. Drinking plus heavy exertion made the perfect recipe for a migraine. Craig ran his fingers through his sweaty dark hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Clyde,” Craig began with his patience wearing thin, “go do whatever. I can bring Bebe to the bathroom on my own.” The truth was Craig wasn’t so sure he could. Despite Clyde becoming a massive nuisance, he was still _very_ strong. Mostly because of all the hours of football practice he attended (even though he was the team’s resident bench warmer). In the off season he could still lift more than the much lankier Craig.

“Nah, I’m going to stick with you guys,” Clyde simply replied with a goofy grin.

Craig looked down the hallway only to be disappointed when he saw the three person line before the second floor bathroom. He’d be damned if he was going to let Bebe throw up all over him with Clyde drunkenly witnessing it in the background. After being friends with Clyde for many years, Craig knew every inch of the Donovan household. More than once he had to use the master bedroom ensuite while Clyde’s older sister locked herself up in the bathroom.

“Make yourself useful then,” Craig said while he adjusted his grip on the slowly slipping Bebe, “we’re going to your dad’s room.”

“Jeez Craig,” Clyde hiccuped unattractively while wiggling his eyebrows, “you should really ask a guy out for dinner first before you give out _that_ kind of invitation.” Craig’s reply came in the form of a humourless, deadpan stare.

* * *

“Oh thank _God_ ,” Bebe croaked out when Craig and Clyde gently set her down in front of the ensuite toilet. She shivered slightly when her bare legs made contact with the cold tiled floor.

Craig shared her sentiment. This whole ordeal was way more complicated than it should have been. He threw off his hoodie and grabbed a mint green hand towel from a rack and began to wipe the sweat off of his forehead.

“Mannnnnn,” Clyde let out an exaggerated sigh, “I’m pooped.” He perched himself on the edge of the ivory tinted bathtub and proceeded to lean too far back, falling in with a loud bang. Craig looked over his shoulder, unamused, before turning back to splash some water on his face from the sink.

“You didn’t hit your head and knock yourself out, did you?” Craig asked after a moment of silence from Clyde and lazily made his way towards the tub. He really wasn’t _that_ concerned but the thought that Clyde might have cracked his skull open did, admittedly, cross his mind.

“Nah,” Clyde replied casually from his position in the bathtub. He adjusted himself and yawned tiredly. “I think I’m gonna sleep for a bit.” With that, he shut his unfocused eyes and almost immediately began to snore softly.

Craig couldn’t help but smirk. Leave it to Clyde to fall asleep in a bathtub when a bed was available just a couple of metres away. Just as Craig had begun to consider taking the queen size bed for himself, a loud whine reminded him that there was another person present in the cramped bathroom. 

Bebe was still hunched over the toilet in all her glory. Craig, after making his way over, bent down to get a better look at her. The only colour on Bebe’s very pale face was the redness at the very tip of her nose, probably there because of the few tears that escaped from her eyes. As a result of that, her mascara was severely smudged, long trails of patchy black lines made their way down her cheeks. If Craig had to be honest, like he usually was, she looked _awful._ Well, there wasn’t much he could do for her. He stood up to give her some space, making his way out of the bathroom.

“Craig…” Bebe let out with the strangest choked cry he had ever heard. Craig sighed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He suddenly felt very tired and it was almost as though Roger Donovan’s bed was calling out to him. But then Bebe started to cry harder and he knew that he couldn’t just leave her.

“You’ll feel better after you throw up,” Craig said as gently as he could muster and began to rub Bebe’s upper back in awkward motions. After she had calmed down a bit, Craig pulled back her long golden curls and held them away from her face. Now all they had to do was wait.

Craig absentmindedly wondered what time it was. He realized with annoyance that his phone must of fell out of his back pocket somewhere along their journey to the bathroom. He glanced back over his shoulder to check if Clyde was still breathing (he was) and yawned before stretching out his back. As if to answer his previous question concerning the time, Craig heard the loud countdown begin.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT,” the large crowd of people downstairs started to chant. He could just picture all his classmates (and then some) gathered around the large flat screen television in the living room.

“SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR,” the far off voices continued. Craig could feel Bebe tense up under his loose grip on her hair.

“THREE, TWO!” Craig wondered how he got himself in this situation as Clyde let out a loud snore from behind him and Bebe began to tremble.

Just as soon as everyone yelled out “ONE!” in their loudest voices, Bebe puked into the toilet. Craig grimaced and looked away, focusing on his reflection in the mirror as she continued to make horrible noises. The yellowish lighting from above gave his face harsh shadows and his sweaty black hair was plastered on his forehead. Craig came to the conclusion that he currently looked just as fucking awful as Bebe did.

“I’m feeling better,” Bebe said with a weak voice after she was finished. She slowly pushed herself up off the floor with minimal support from Craig and stumbled to the sink to rinse out her mouth. Craig stiffly stood by and the reflection of their eyes met in the mirror. She turned to face him and slightly smiled. “Thanks.”

Craig wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for staying with her, holding her hair back or for bothering to drag her up the stairs in the first place. Maybe her surprisingly timid gratitude was meant to cover all three. “It’s fine,” he replied coolly with a shrug of his shoulders.

They both looked out the bathroom door as the cheers that rang out for the new year continued downstairs. “Ugh,” Bebe began with distaste, “I really don’t wanna go down there.”

“Same,” Craig agreed. “I’m pretty tired.”

Bebe nodded and looked into the bathtub at Clyde’s sleeping figure. “I guess he was tired too,” she giggled. “That can’t be good for his back.”

“Don’t bother to try and wake him up. As soon as he falls asleep he’s dead to the world for at least eight hours,” Craig stated knowingly from first hand experience.

The two teens sluggishly made their way out of the ensuite bathroom, back into Roger Donovan’s bedroom. Craig only entered this room a few times throughout the years and never really bothered to stop and look around. It was pretty normal when it came to master bedroom standards. A bed with a white cushion headboard, two nightstands on either side with small laps resting on them, one dresser and walls painted grey. 

The only noteworthy detail about the room was that it seemed that only half of it was ever used. The left side space was cluttered with shoeboxes and laundry strewn across the floor. The right side, which they were currently standing at, was pristinely clean. Craig had a feeling that he knew which area Betsy Donovan occupied when she still was alive. He curled his toes into the shaggy brown carpet in discomfort, it almost felt as though their presence was ruining the sanctity of what was once Betsy’s domain. Seemingly not noticing Craig’s quandary, Bebe shuffled over quickly to the bed and sat down on the right hand side.

“Hey, this is pretty comfy!” She exclaimed in delight, slightly bouncing on the bed. Craig looked at her resentfully. So much for him spending the night there, Bebe beat him to it while he was standing around pointlessly worrying over something stupid. He knew when to accept defeat and sighed.

“Later,” Craig said without much emotion in his voice and lifted his left hand up to signal his departure. He began moving in the direction of the door that led out to the hall.

“Where are you going?” Bebe asked in confusion.

“I’m going to find somewhere to sleep.”

“What?” Bebe questioned. “There’s a perfectly good place right here.” As if to make her point, she patted the left side of the bed.

Craig turned to look at her skeptically.

“You think this is some kind of proposition?” Craig’s silence was more than enough of an answer to her question. Bebe put her hand on her chest and fell back onto the bed in a melodramatic manner. “Just _whaaaat_ type of girl do you think I am, Craaaaaig?” She drawled out in over exaggerated sadness.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Bebe slowly pushed herself up on her elbows and frowned, this time for real. “I’m just saying that it’s a big bed. God, I didn’t know you were such a prude, Craig. I’m not secretly planning to jump you in the middle of the night or anything,” she spoke with irritation laced in her voice.

Craig’s headache returned with a vengeance. His options were limited. The only other rooms in the house he could sleep in were Clyde’s or his older sister’s bedrooms. Though, he wouldn’t be shocked if he walked in on people hooking up in them (it was enough of a surprise that the master bedroom was vacant). With all the people continuing to party downstairs, sleeping on the couch in the living room wasn’t possible either.

This was so fucking stupid.

Craig swiftly flicked off the light switch and the room was blanketed in total darkness. He undid the top button of his black skinny jeans for comfort but refused to take them off completely. He moved to the left side of the bed, lifted the flannel comforter and laid down as far away as possible from Bebe.

“Goodnight,” Bebe huffed in frustration. She turned on her side, facing towards the wall.

Craig had to admit that Bebe was right, the mattress was really comfortable. He hadn’t realized how truly tired he was until he was actually snug in a bed. He could still hear the party downstairs though it was no longer as loud as it previously was. Craig assumed it was because the excitement of the new year was already wearing off. Half of the partygoers were probably so drunk that they didn’t even realize what was going on anymore. A soft song began to play, the name of it and who the artist was escaped him. Craig felt his eyelids start to become heavy.

“You know something?” Bebe suddenly asked, the sleepiness evident in her voice.

“What?” Craig mumbled in return.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first New Year’s in four or five years where I haven’t kissed someone at midnight,” Bebe reflected. She didn’t sound particularly upset about the fact. If Craig had to put on word on it, maybe she sounded slightly surprised?

“Well, you can forget about kissing me right now,” Craig sternly warned. “I’m not kissing someone with puke breath.”

Bebe immediately reached over and struck his arm. “Get over yourself!” She yelled out heatedly. “I wasn’t thinking about kissing _you!”_

Craig smothered a low snicker before slowly drifting to sleep.

* * *

He was awakened by a loud yell.

Craig rubbed his eyes roughly before he attempted to sit up. After pushing himself halfway into a seated position, he quickly dropped back down. It felt as though someone had swung a hammer against his skull. He clenched his jaw tightly and turned to his left, becoming slightly startled when he realized that he wasn’t in his own bedroom. Craig tried to rack his pounding brain to remember what exactly happened. As he attempted to put the pieces together, he felt something shift to his right and heard a raspy groan. Craig turned his head and was greeted to the sight of a very sloppy looking Bebe. She was laying on her stomach, sunlight shone through a window and streamed down her back. She glared at him with hostility.

Everything came back to him. The New Year’s party, Bebe getting sick, himself and Clyde dragging her upstairs and the night ending with him reluctantly climbing into Roger Donovan’s bed. He rested the palm of his hand on his forehead and squeezed his eyelids shut, trying to dissolve some of the pain he was experiencing.

“What'd you scream for?” Bebe asked in annoyance. Craig looked at her from the corner of his eye. He noticed that they unintentionally moved much closer together during the night but he was too sick to care. “You woke me up,” she continued to complain.

“It wasn’t me,” Craig grumbled.

“Then who was it?”

The answer to Bebe’s question came in the form of Clyde running out of the ensuite bathroom, dripping wet from head to toe. Craig and Bebe simultaneously looked at each other in disbelief before turning their heads back to Clyde. 

“Thanks for leaving me in the tub, guys!” Clyde sarcastically remarked. He began to shake slightly and it was impossible to tell if it was out of anger or because he was cold.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bebe asked while she cracked a small grin of amusement.

“I hit the shower handle with my foot when woke up. The water was freaking freezing!” Clyde furrowed his brows.

“It’s your own fault,” Craig pointed out with no remorse. “You’re the one who fell in. It’s not like either of us could lift you out.”

“So now you’re calling me fat!?” Clyde shouted defensively.

“Calm down,” Bebe attempted to change the subject. “So you got a little wet. It’s no big deal, Clyde.”

“Easy for you guys to say,” he huffed in return. “You both got to sleep all warm in my Dad’s bed!”

“Jesus Christ,” Craig let out in exasperation. His splitting headache was getting worse with all the yelling that Clyde was doing.”If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up, get in here with us.”

All the anger on Clyde’s face immediately melted away. He quickly peeled off his wet t-shirt and jeans (he thankfully left on his neon orange boxers) and jumped right into the middle of the bed. Craig and Bebe both swore under their breaths as the bed shook violently.

After a moment of awkward silence, Clyde sighed. “I’m not really mad at you guys.”

“Wow, that’s just wonderful. Great.” Craig replied flatly.

“Yeah, it _is_ great,” Bebe agreed sharply, obviously not impressed with Craig’s mockery. She gently patted Clyde’s arm to show her support.

“Alcohol sucks,” Clyde suddenly declared.

“What an insightful observation,” Craig continued to monotonously insult his friend’s intelligence.

“All it does is get you sick and damages relationships,” Clyde carried on. “Our friendship could have been ruined with that argument we just had! All because of alcohol!”

Craig rolled his eyes. The “argument” in question was completely one sided on Clyde’s part. He had absolutely no idea where Clyde was going with all this.

Bebe seemed to be equally as lost. “Yeah, and your point is?” She asked, her patience slipping.

“My point is that we should quit drinking!” Clyde announced with conviction. 

Silence enveloped the three of them. Bebe was the first to begin to speak.

“That’s actually a really great idea,” she thought out loud. “It totally sucked how sick I got last night. It wasn’t fun and I _never_ wanna experience it again.”

Clyde beamed proudly at her reaction to his idea. “What about you, Craig?”

If quitting drinking meant that he would never have to go through another hangover in his life, Craig was more than willing to comply. He made a vague sound of agreement.

“Awesome! Let’s promise that from this day forward, none of us will ever drink again!” Clyde affirmed passionately.

“It’s a deal!” Bebe gladly accepted.

“Sure, whatever,” Craig complied. “I’m going back asleep,” he firmly added.

“Me too,” Bebe agreed with a yawn.

“What?” Clyde frowned. “I’m not tired.”

“Then go downstairs and start cleaning up,” Craig remarked offhandedly, turning and shutting his eyes once more.

Clyde crossed his arms and huffed.

* * *

They all broke their promise two and a half months later during Bebe’s Saint Patrick’s Day party. Only this time, Craig was the one to fall asleep in a bathtub. 

**Author's Note:**

> Craig secretly cares about the wellbeing of his friends. Really.
> 
> This whole fic was a mess. Literally everything after Craig wakes up is total shit but there wasn’t much I could do to fix it at that point. I also really suck at writing romance so instead you get this weird scenario. But I kind of want to start watching South Park again?? Not religiously, but just whatever episodes I find interesting based on their descriptions. Maybe you’ll see me (crappily) writing for this fandom again one day...


End file.
